The Master of Death
by Ultimate Warrior
Summary: Summary: Harry Potter never imagined when he became the Master of Death that this would tangle him up in the age old battle between the Reaper and the Auditors, and that he would be forced to step into the shoes of Azreal, the Death of Universes
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Discworld series, I would be a far richer man if I did.

Summary: Harry Potter never imagined when he became the Master of Death that this would tangle him up in the age old battle between the Reaper and the Auditors, and that he would be forced to step into the shoes of Azreal, the Death of Universes

Authors note: this was simply an idea that came to me when I was reading a Harry Potter/Avengers cross over where Harry met Death and Death was like a humble servant to him, and I thought, how would the Death of the Disc react to Harry being the Master of Death, this, in turn, led me to think; "hang on, there's already a Master of Death in the Discworld canon" so, naturally, I thought, what if Harry took Azreal's place.

Currently this is just an idea, there is no plot to it at all right now, and I cannot commit myself to it since I want to crack on with my Chronicles of the Green Wizard thing, but this idea floated into my head and forced itself onto the page, so I thought I'd put it up anyway and see what reaction it gets.

Enjoy

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/\/\/\**Chapter One**/\/\/\

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Three years had passed since the battle of Hogwarts and the death of Voldemort. The world had moved on. The nation had healed and was coming to terms with life after war.

Hogwarts, as always, had remained a constant. Unchanging in its fundamentals year after year, though the staff changed every once in a while, and the students change every year, it moved on as it always had, welcoming the new generations into its halls, nurturing their young minds and developing the talents within them that they would need to succeed in the future.

The Ministry, by contrast, had been in a considerably chaotic state and it had required all of Kingsley Shacklebolt's formidable energy and focus to push it through to some semblance of order. Shacklebolt had stood on no ceremony and promoted men and women he felt he could trust to help him restore the government to working order regardless of their background. It was no stretch of the imagination to say that Minister Shacklebolt had become the most popular political leader of the country in over fifty years.

As for our heroes, well, Hermione Granger was the only one who chose to return to Hogwarts to finish her education, which, being her, she passed with flying colours. Shortly thereafter she attained a job in the Minister in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where she could expend her energies in one of her great passions, promoting the rights of the magical creatures such as House-Elves.

Ron Weasley chose not to finish his education but instead moved into the shop owned by his brother George and helped run Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Though this, it turned out, was only a temporary time of employment for he soon joined the Auror's department and became a well respected law enforcement officer. He never, truly, gave up his role in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes however and could often be found in the shop on his days off.

And Harry Potter, the idol of the British Magical World, he too chose not to finish his education. Without hesitation he accepted Minister Shacklebolt's offer of a place in the Auror's Department, where he instantly became the new poster boy and was advancing through the ranks in quick order. During this time he place a great deal of responsibility on his own shoulder in regards to the welfare of his Godson Teddy Lupin, for he was determined that Teddy should not suffer the same fate he did and grow up without knowing his Godfather or anything about his parent. He has also begun to court Ginny Weasley and could not remember a time he had ever been happier.

Harry still lived in 12 Grimmauld Place, and though it did still hold some bad memories for him he was intent on replacing them with as many good memories as he could. In the spirit of this endeavour he had employed a team of cursebreakers to remove the portrait of Mrs Walburga Black from the hall and placed it deep inside one of his Vaults at Gringott's, there to gather dust and be forgotten. He held regular get-togethers with friends and family which served to fill the old house with the sound and sights of revelry. In the last few years, Gimmauld Place had turned from an unwelcoming house into a warm home and soon, ever so slowly, Harry was working up the courage to ask Ginny to move in with him.

This night we find Harry stumbling, as was his want, from the floo into the living room of his home after a long days work. He sighed as he collapsed into his armchair.

"Kreacher!" He called out, and listened with half an ear for the pop as the House-Elf entered the room.

"Master Harry Potter calls?" The old House-Elf said

Harry regarded him with some degree of fondness mixed in with his exhaustion "I've had a busy day at work; run me a bath would you, and could get me a drink while you're at it"

"Yes Master" Kreacher bowed and snapped his fingers, bringing glass chalice and a bottle of Firewhisky into the room

"Thank you Kreacher" Harry said as he accepted the bottle and chalice.

Kreacher looked somewhat abashed and mumbled "Master is too kind to Kreacher" before he popped away.

"Sure, sure" Harry mumbled in reply. House-Elves would never accept politeness from humans, they always thought themselves undeserving of it, and no matter how much Harry himself didn't agree with that idea the House-Elves themselves refused to change. He'd learnt not to argue with it.

He poured himself out a liberal amount of Firewhiskey before setting the bottle down on the table. He drank a mouthful of the strong liquor and settled down in his chair with a moan of contentment. He felt his eyes close as he began to drift off.

"Master?" Kreacher called as softly as he could and shook the wizard's shoulders. "You bath is ready Master"

Harry yawned as he rose from his chair. "Thank you." He said and ignored the abashed mumbling that followed. "How long was I asleep do you know?"

"Half an hour Master" The old Elf answered as he cleared away the Firewhiskey.

"Really?" Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "So I have…what? Two, three hours before I have to pick up Ginny. Alright then. Just enough time to have a bath and relax properly. If I'm not out in twenty minutes give me a shout will you?"

"As Master Harry Potter wishes." Kreacher bowed once more.

"Oh! And can you lay out my best suit. Thanks. I want to look my best for tonight." Harry called as he walked out of the room. "I'm finally going to ask Ginny to move in with me."

"Kreacher will make them ready for you Master." He agreed with an eagerness that would have been more at home in a far younger Elf.

"Thanks again Kreacher. You're a lifesaver. I don't know what I'd do without you." Harry allowed himself a little smile as the sound of Kreacher's protest at such praise followed him.

Stripping the moment he entered the bath room he let out a moan as he settled into the water and allowed himself to be marinated in it. There was nothing quite like a hot bath to wash the aches and pains away. Though, of course, that was the Muggle side of him talking because wizards had obviously solved these problems with potions and salves, but they did not have quite the same enjoyment that soaking your body in a tub did.

He must have been there only ten minutes when Kreacher's voice disturbed him. "Master has a visitor." He said.

This time Harry let out a frustrated moan. "Cant it wait? I've only just got settled!"

"Kreacher does not think so Master. Master's guest was quite insistent." Kreacher, as was the habit of most of his kind, was not happy to have upset his master.

Harry let out a long sigh, closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest against the side of the bath. "Alright. Show whoever it is into the living room and tell them to give me a few minutes to finish my bath then I'll come see to them." A mutter agreement from the House-Elf followed and Harry shook his head in frustration, then let loose and irritated sigh once more and moved to finish his wash.

Harry dressed in his best clothes, which Kreacher had laid out for him, and walked down the stairs. Still annoyed that his rest had been disturbed he was grumbling as he walked down the stairs. "I sware to god that if that's Robards then I'm going to curse him to hell and back, I don't care if he is my boss. My hours stop at six; he can't just come waltzing for any old rubbish."

In the living room there stood a very tall, robed figure, surveying the room. His back was to Harry, though, for some reason, he seemed to be carrying a scythe. Harry took notice of this but didn't much care about it at that moment. "Look, if you're from Robards you can tell him to go get stuffed! I finished my shift and I've got plans for the evening so I really cant go…" his words died on his tongue.

The figure turned around to face him and what was hidden within those robes was a large white skull, permanently grinning, with deep black holes in its eye-sockets and a glint of a strange multi-hued colour hidden deep within them

_EXCUSE ME?_

The words formed in his head unheard by his ears. Undoubtedly they came from the figure in front of him but they came strait into his mind as if they had been his own thoughts rather than those of his guest. Harry couldn't help but start. "Is this some kind of joke?"

_I DON'T BELIEVE SO. I DO NOT HAVE THE BEST GRASP OF THE CONCEPT OF HUMOUR, THOUGH I HAVE TRIED. ALBERT THINKS I DO NOT HAVE THE TIMING RIGHT_

"So if it's not a joke then what the hell is it?" Harry advanced upon the figure and sized him up. "Because I'm standing here and what you look like, and I'm sure you'll find it funny, what I'm seeing is the Grim Reaper stand in my living room. And I know that can't be true because there's no way that's even possible!"

_WELL, IT MUST BE POSSIBLE, BECAUSE THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT IS HAPPENING_

Harry scoffed and turned away to flop down in his armchair. "So you're Death are you? A big skeleton in a black robe with a scythe, how very cliché! Do you ride a flaming horse as well?"

Death shook his head and answered with a sigh. _IT WAS TOO IMPRACTICAL. IT KEPT SETTING MY ROBES ON FIRE, NOT TO MENTION THE AMOUNT OF TIMES ITS STABLE BURNT DOWN. FIRE AND HAY DO NOT MIX WELL_

Harry rolled his eyes and reached for his chalice and Firewhiskey, which Kreacher had helpfully anticipated might be required. "How very disappointing! Is it at least a skeleton horse?"

Death turned without movement, an odd trick but somehow he managed it, and lowered himself onto the sofa._ I TRIED THAT ONCE BUT IT WAS FAR TOO AWKWORD AND UNCOMFORTABLE, AND IT HAD A TERRIBLE TENDENCY TO FALL TO BITS ON LONG JOURNEYS_

"So what kind of horse do you have?" Harry asked as he poured himself another drink

_A WHITE HORSE_ conceded Death with a tilt of his head

After a quick gulp of his liquor Harry answered in a deadpan voice "How boring, a plain ordinary white horse."

To this Death shrugged _I WOULD NOT CALL BINKY **ORDINARY**_

"Ha!" The laugh tore itself from Harry's throat unbidden. "Binky?! I never thought Death would have a horse called Binky!"

_IT DOES QUITE ALTER THE WHOLE GRIM APPAREL THING I ADMIT, BUT BINKY IS MORE REAL THAN ANY HORSE YOU WILL EVER MEET_

A disinterested look crossed Harry's face and he took another swig of his alcohol. "I'm sure. So what are you here for anyway? I doubt you've come to reap my soul."

Death merely turned his head to gaze to Harry's left, towards the door. _THAT IS OUT OF MY JURISDICTION I'M AFRAID. I DO NOT HARVEST THIS WORLD_

"But you're _Death_. How can you not have jurisdiction over this world? That's your job!" Harry demanded with a wave of his hand.

The reaper brought his hands up so the fingers steeple before him grinning jaw. _THERE ARE MANY DEATHS IN THE MULTIVERSE MR POTTER. EACH INDIVIDUAL WORLD HAS ITS OWN UNIQUE…ANTHOPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION THAT REPRESENTS DEATH. BUT WE ALL ANSWER TO DEATH OF THE UNIVERSE, AZREAL. HE IS OUR MASTER, OR, RATHER, HE WAS_

That bit of information caught Harry's attention. "Was? What do you mean 'was'?"

Death seemed almost ashamed to answer as he lowered he head and averted his gaze. _AZREAL HAS…THERE IS NO CORRECT WAY TO SAY THIS IN YOUR TONGUE BUT I BELIEVE THE CLOSEST TERM WOULD BE…DIED. YES. THAT SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT. AZREAL HAS DIED_

Harry scoffed again. "How can the universal death die? Surely, as death, and the master of all the deaths of the multiverse, he decides these things."

Death conceded this with a small shrug. _I BELIEVE YOU ARE CORRECT. NEVERTHELESS HE HAS DIED_

"Not that I believe you anyway, but how? How has this Azreal died?" Harry placed his elbow on the arm of the chair rested his chin on his palm.

Death raised his head and turned his inexpressive gaze once more to his host. _AS I UNDERSTAND IT, IT IS SOMETHING TO DO WITH YOU, MR POTTER. A LONG TIME AGO AZREAL WAS SUMMONED TO YOUR WORLD AND BOUND TO IT. TO RETURN TO HIS RIGHTFUL PLACE IN REALITY HE WAS FORCED TO LEAVE BEHIND THREE ITEMS FOR THREE BROTHERS, ITEMS WHICH WERE FORGED FROM HIS VERY BEING_

Waving his hands to cut off his guest there Harry interjected. "Wait. Are you talking about the Deathly Hallows? A cloak, a wand and a stone?"

_IS THAT WHAT THEY ARE CALLED HERE? THEN I MUST BE. A CLOAK OF INVISIBILITY FORGED FROM THE UNSEEN INEVITABLITY OF DEATH THAT HANGS OVER LIFE. A STONE THAT SUMMONS THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD FORGED FROM THE COMPLETE MASTERY DEATH MAINTAINS OVER LIFE. A WEAPON OF EXTROADINARY POWER FORGED FROM THE IMMEASUREABLE POWER AT THE REAPERS COMMAND. THESE COMBINED REPRESENTED ALL THAT THE REAPER WAS_

Harry scratched the side of his head. "Ok. I think I understand a bit now. When I became master of the Deathly Hallows I somehow messed up the death of the universe. But what can I do about it? It's not like I can just throw them away."

_THAT IS A QUESTION I CANNOT ANSWER. BUT THE UNIVERSE CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT AZREAL. LIFE CANNOT CONTINUE IF DEATH HAS NO MASTER_

"So…you're saying I have to take up Azreal's job." Harry gave him a look like he had just grown five extra heads.

Slowly placing his arms down by his side Death sat bolt upright and tilted his head. _I DO NOT KNOW IF THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WOULD SUGGEST. YOU ARE HUMAN. THOUGH YOU MAY CONTROL THESE…DEATHLY HALLOWS, AS YOU CALL THEM, YOU ARE STILL MORTAL AND WILL ONE DAY DIE_

Harry placed his drink back on the side table, then leant forward and gave Death the best glare he could muster "So what _do_ you want?"

Again, Death tilted his head, and then he sat for a few minutes in silence. Harry could feel the cogs of his theoretical mind spinning. _I THINK, THAT, WHAT THE UNIVERSE NEEDS, FOR THE MOMENT AT ANY RATE, IS, IF YOU'LL PARDON THE TERM, A SUBSTITUTE DEATH_

This caused the wizard to roll his eyes and sit back with a huff. "And you think I should be it."

_IT IS THE LOGICAL CHOICE. YOU HAVE THE POWER OF AZREAL AND THIS SHALL BECOME MORE APPARENT IN DUE COURSE. BUT I WOULD NOT SUGGEST TAKING THE JOB ON A FULL TIME BASIS. I WOULD MERELY SUGGEST YOU HOLD IT UNTIL AZREAL CAN BE RESTORED_

Again Harry waved proceedings to a halt. "Wait, wait. You said Azreal was dead. How can he be 'restored' if he's dead?"

_DEATH DOES NOT MEAN THE SAME THING TO AN INCOPOREAL BEING OF THE UNIVERSE THAT IT MEANS TO A MORTAL MAN. ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATIONS WILL ALWAYS EXIST IN SOME FORM. THE TRICK IS TO KNOW HOW TO PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER_

"Alright, so, you want me to stand in for the Death of Deaths until he brings himself back to life. Does that sound as crazy to you as it sounds to me?" He shot Death and inquiring look but faced with the ultimate poker face he could do little but give up with a sigh "Right. Never mind. So what if I said yes? What would I have to do?"

_YOU WOULD HAVE TO BE AZREAL_

This was far from revealing and Harry felt justified in spreading his arms out in an imploring gesture. "But _what_ did Azreal _do_?"

Death turned his gaze to the ceiling and stared at it as if he could see through it and beyond it to the depths of the Universe, and he probably could. _AZREAL WAS THE MASTER OF DEATH. AZREAL WAS OUR LORD. AZREAL SET THE RULES. AZREAL MADE US WHAT WE WERE, WHAT WE ARE, AND WHAT WE SHOULD REMAIN. AZREAL WAS DEATH AND LIFE AND EVERYTHING INBETWIXT AND INBETWEEN_

Harry regarded him with a critical gaze. "So Azreal was this all important figure in the universe that kept life going and told the Reapers what they were?"

_INDEED_

"But Azreal is dead. So what happens with the Reapers?" The wizard asked and brought his hands together.

_I DO NOT KNOW. BUT I FEAR THAT NOT ALL DEATHS ARE QUITE AS…HUMAIN AS I._

"So, basically, you need someone to keep the other Deaths in line until your boss gets back." Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes again as he once more fell back into the expanses of his chair.

_IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING_ conceded the reaper with the barest movement of his shoulders.

Harry shook his head and felt his anger swell. "I've got a life to live you know! I can't just up sticks and leave for any old emergency. I was finally getting my life on track. I had a date with Ginny tonight, and a promotion at work all lined up, and now you expect me to just disappear at a moments notice. What about my life?!"

Death was unmoved by the passionate plea. _WITHOUT AZREAL THERE WILL NO LIFE_

The wizard slammed his fist on the chairs arm. "Alright already! Give it a rest! I didn't say I wouldn't do it, but I'd like some information first. Like, do I have to go anywhere? Or how long I'd have to do it."

_YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TO GO ANYWHERE BUT BE EVERYWHERE_

"You do know that's totally vague right?" he scoffed.

_IT IS WHAT IT IS. DEATH IS EVERYWHERE BUT THE PERSONIFICATION OF DEATH CAN BE ANYWHERE_

With a tired sigh Harry responded. "Great. So how long is this thing supposed to last?"

_UNTIL AZREAL IS RESTORED_ spoke Death without a single hint of irony

"And when will that happen?" he attempted again.

_WHENEVER THE TIME IS RIGHT_ answered the reaper in the exact same tone as before.

Harry sent him a glare. "You are so not helping! Fine! Whatever! Lets try this a different way. What does Azreal need to be 'restored'?"

Death once more sat in silence as he contemplated the best way to answer. After what felt like hours he finally answered._ AZREAL IS, IN SOME RESPECTS, A GOD, AND GODS EXIST THROUGH THE POWER OF BELIEF. BUT AZREAL DIFFERS IN THAT HE DOES NOT REQUIRE THE BELIEF OF MORTAL BEINGS TO EXIST BUT THE BELIEF OF THE REAPERS. HE HAS LOST THIS AND MUST RECLAIM IT_

This was incomprehensible to Harry so he was force, by mere curiosity if nothing else, to say; "But if he was the boss of the Reapers, their master and whatever, how could they not believe in him? They must know he exists."

Harry got the strange sensation that Death sent him an exasperated look, though how he could tell with that frozen face was a mystery. _KNOWING IS NOT THE SAME AS BELIEVING_

"I don't follow."

Again, in a strangely human move, Death seemed to sigh. _I SHALL ATTEMPT TO EXPLAIN. A SIMILAR SITUATION WOULD BE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MAGICAL AND NON-MAGICAL BEINGS IN THIS WORLD. HERE PEOPLE KNOW MAGIC EXISTS BUT THEY DO NOT BELIEVE IN IT. THEY DO NOT KNOW ABOUT WIZARDS AND THE SPELLS THEY PERFORM, THEY THINK OF MAGIC AS A PARLOUR TRICK FOR ENTERTAINMENT. THEY DO NOT BELIEVE THAT MAGIC IS **REAL**_

Once more an abortive silence descended, this time as Harry worked out the comparison. "So what you're saying is that the Deaths all over the universe know that Azreal exists but they don't believe that he's really there. So what do they think he is?"

_THEY BELIEVE HIM TO BE THE OLDEST REAPER BUT NOT THE LORD OF THE REAPERS. THEY BELIEVE HIM TO HAVE BEEN THE FIRST BUT NOT THE **END**. THEY BELIEVE HIM…EXCHANGEABLE_

"Exchangeable? With what?"

_ANYONE OF THEM_

Again Harry scoffed. "That's…that's stupid! You can't just replace a god with some guy!"

Death regarded him for a moment. _YOU DID. THAT IS THE PROBLEM_

Harry sat bolt up-right and felt his face flush with anger. "What?! I'm not a god!"

_WHILE YOU HOLD THE POWER OF AZREAL YOU ARE THE PHYSICAL EMBODIMENT OF THE, FOR LACK OF A BETTER TERM, GOD OF DEATHS. YOU HAVE REPLACED AZREAL WHETHER YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT OR NOT. BUT A MORTAL DEATH GOD IS NOT SOMETHING THE UNIVERSE CAN SUSTAIN._

"Oh fine! I don't have a bloody choice in the matter do I?" Harry really saw no point in arguing further, it didn't matter what he wanted, the universe had already conspired against him.

_THERE IS NO NEED TO GET UPSET_

"Really?! Some stupid skeleton comes from some alien world and tells me I'm the god of death and I have to give up my life to fill in until the old god gets a grip! And you think there's no need to get upset! You've ruined my life!" Harry shouted as he stood from his seat and pointed an accusing finger at Death.

After a moments silence Death spoke. _I THOUGHT THE STUPID SKELETON REMARK WAS UNCALLED FOR_

Harry gave a dismissive snort. "…maybe. But I'm not sorry for it. If I have to do something like this then I'm damn sure not going to be happy about it."

_BEING HAPPY WOULD NOT SUIT THE JOB ANYWAY_

"Oh shut up!" the wizard said and at last finished off the Firewhiskey in his chalice with one large gulp. "Let me just tell my friends what's happening then we get this thing over and done with then I can get back to my life."

_PERHAPS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND FULLY. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO GO ANYWHERE. THE JOB WILL FIND YOU_ Death rose in one movement and held out his hand, to which his scythe flew and stuck fast. _I MERELY WISHED TO OFFER YOU A FEW WORDS OF WARNING. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE TO DO WITH THEM IS YOUR CHOICE._

Harry sent him a glare again. "So what are you going to do while I'm playing Death god? Going to go back to your world and carry on as if nothing's changed?"

_I HAVE MATTERS THAT I MUST ATTEND TO_ said Death spared him a glance. _THESE WILL KEEP ME BUSY FOR A WHILE. I AM SORRY THAT THIS HAS HAPPENED, AND I AM SORRY THAT I CAN BE OF NO GREAT HELP TO YOU. THOUGH I AM SURE YOU WILL DO AN…ADEQUETE JOB._

"Yeah, sure, whatever" Harry replied dismissively.

_FAREWELL, MR POTTER_. With that Death gave a whistle and a blindingly white horse cantered through the wall then stopped before the reaper. Death swung himself up onto its saddle. COME BINKY he said and as soon as he said it he was gone.

Harry stood in an empty room, with the sound of hoof beat ringing in his ears and sighed. Once more he flopped down into his chair and turned his gaze to the three-quarter full bottle of Firewhiskey, which was become more temping by the minute.

"Bloody brilliant!"

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/\/\**End Chapter One**/\/\

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Please review. No flames.


	2. Chapter Two

Its amazing what you come up with when you procrastinating.

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/\/\/\**Chapter Two**/\/\/\

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In a certain and central spot in the universe three figures gathered. They were not corporeal in any real sense of the word, in fact they were little more than grey cloaks covering wisps of smoke. They were the Auditors of Reality, ancient being who ran the universe and made sure laws like those of gravity and thermodynamics were working smoothly and being followed.

And they had gathered at this one spot because something was not running smoothly

Now, one thing that you have to understand about the Auditors is that they are a collective entity. They operate as if they were one being and the idea of individuality of any kind is not only foreign to them but their greatest fear. If one Auditor so much as refers to itself as "I" or "me" then it will cease to exist. As such it is impossible to tell them apart.

One said: Well this is unexpected

One said: And very disorderly

One said: It's not like Him just to disappear

One said: At least He brought some order to the universe. It's going to be madness with Him gone

One said: What are the Reapers going to do without Him? They are so unpredictable at the best of times, always causing us problems

One said: Do we not think that this…occurrence could be an opportunity for us?

One said: What kind of opportunity?

One said: Well, He was all about life wasn't He?

One said: What about it?

One said: If He was all about life then without Him life's lost something important right? So we can take advantage of this and get rid of life once and for all

One said: And how would we go about that?

One said: Well, what about the Reapers? We get rid of them and we make sure He's gone forever

One said: That's easier said that done isn't it.

One said: Of course it is but it's not impossible. They exist on belief in Death don't they? So we just have to stop the Reapers doing their job and people will stop believing in them

One said: And how are we supposed to do that?

One said: Simple we remove the Reapers

One said: …we can do that?

One said: It's simple enough without Him being there.

One said: But what about the Death of the Disc? He's sure to get in the way.

One said: Yes. He's always a problem, but even he can't do everything, and even he's not going to be immune to the loss of his master

One said: Are we sure? He's been tricky in the past

One said: We don't see what he can do. Even the Death of the Disc had to answer to Him and with Him gone even the Death of the Disc will have to answer to us

One said: At last we can bring proper order to reality

One said: And there's nothing that can stop us

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The City of Anhk-Morpork, greatest of cities on the Disc, was in some state of chaos this evening. That, in and of itself, was not unusual, and had it been the usual kind of chaos it would have ended rather quickly with a swift intervention by the City Watch, but this chaos was not the usual type.

No, rather than the usual brouhaha of drunken bar fights and nightly mock-battles between young Trolls and Dwarfs on their first few nights away from home and in the big city, or the occasional explosion from the Alchemists guild, or even the latest rush to get the newest design of stamp from the Post Office, this chaos was a panic that can only come from the supernatural.

Like a B-list horror movie the citizens of Anhk-Morpork were running to and fro, screaming and shouting in terror, destroying what they could and, in the spirit of true Morkporkian tradition, looting from shops and stealing from their fellow citizens (let it never be said that Morporkian's didn't know how to make the most out of a good riot) in complete disregard for the divine justice that was sure to fall upon them at the hands of Commander Vimes in the near future.

It had been a riot that had continued for hours, and in its ferocity it had begun to disturb even the most secluded of the City's residents.

"What the devil is happening out there?!" Archchancellor Munstrum Ridcully demanded as he walked into the quad dressed only in his night-clothes (which this night consisted of only a long robe and his famous hat) and descended upon the conglomeration of the senior wizards of his university.

The senior wizards noticing approach of their boss who, by and large, they preferred to avoid whenever they could help it, milled around somewhat tepidly as he joined their circle.

"I'm not quite sure Archchancellor. Its causing a terrible ruckus whatever it is." said the Chair of Indefinite Studies at lenght.

"People running round, screaming and shouting, its total chaos, that's what it is." Added the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

"But what's causing it man?!" Ridcully demanded in his typically brash manner.

Runes sent a bewildered look to the Chair who shrugged and answered "Could be anything, well, I mean, how can we know what's happening out there? No one's been out to check."

Ridcully, a man by nature who thought the best way to deal with a problem was to meet it head on, was not pleased with this milling around "Then someone go! We can't have this madness going on! It's disturbing the peace!"

Blessedly for the Chair and Runes it was at this moment that the Professor of Logic spotted something clambering over the UU's wall. "Here! Is that the Librarian? What was he doing outside?"

"He's probably been down the Drum. You know how he gets sometimes, probably in the mood for peanuts or something." said the Professor of Natural Studies dismissively.

"Well whatever the case he's the very chap we need." Ridcully clapped his hand, then turned towards the Librarian and cupped his hands around his mouth and called out "Ho! Librarian! Come here now! That's a good man!"

"Ape"

Ridcully sent a withering look towards Runes "Yes thank you. It was a figure of speech."

Runes wrung his hat in his hands and shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, it's an important distinction you know. And just think how much he hates it when you don't call him an Ape. I heard he ripped some thief's arms off when they called him the 'M' word"

"I didn't use the 'M' word though did I?"

"No, but you know how touchy he can be. And, as I said, it is an important distinction." Rune's felt perfectly justified in pointing that out.

Ridcully's levelled a hardened glare at Runes. "When I want to know about important distinctions between people and animals I'll ask for it. Until then Runes I think I'd prefer it if my staff would shut up and try to actually figure out what's happening!"

Against all expectations Runes took offence to this rebuke and returned a petulant stare to the Archchancellor's furious gaze. "No need to be rude. I was only…"

Ridcully cut him of with a shout. "I don't care what you 'were only'! I damn well will not have may staff question me!"

"Ook?"

The Archchancellor span on the spot, the fury still obvious in his face, and rounded on the new comer. "What the devil do you want?!"

"Ook ook." The Orang-utan performed the kind of shrug that can only be performed but its species and managed to look like a sack of potatoes collapsing.

Ridcully, taking in the sudden appearance of the Librarian in all his Ape-ish glory suddenly recovered his composure. "Oh! What! Oh! Of course! Sorry about that, got distracted. Now, my good ma…err, Ape, you've been outside, what's going on out there? What's all this commotion about eh?"

Looking entirely bored with the situation the Librarian began to explain what he had see on his way back from the Drum, adding the occasional massive and expressive waves of his arms for emphasis. "Ook. Eek ook ook eek ook."

"What! Like that time with old Poons?! A disgrace, that's what it is! We can't have the dead coming back to life! It's unsanitary! What's the Death fellow playing at now?"

"Ook" The Orang-utan shrugged again.

"Well?" Ridcully demanded as he rounded on his staff.

The senior wizards cowered somewhat under Ridcully's gaze, not that they would ever admit it, and, as one, took a few shuffling steps backwards. This left the unfortunate Ponder Stibbons alone and at the forefront of the Archchancellor's attentions.

Stibbons, who by this time was rather used to responsibility being forced upon him, sighed. "I don't think we know Archchancellor"

This was not, naturally, the response the Archchancellor wanted. He levelled his gaze at the young wizard. "Well what do you know Mr Stibbons? What's that thinking machine of yours making of all this?"

Stibbons looked abashed. He stuttered to answer. "Er, well, Hex is, kind of, well, sick I suppose."

"Sick?! It's a machine man! A machine can't get sick! You've never seen the Clacks stop for a cold, or one of those Dwarf cube thingumies stop working for a headache. Sort it out man! You built the blasted thing!" The Archchancellor scoffed.

Stibbons sighed again. "Yes Archchancellor. But it will take some time to find what the problem is."

"How much time are we talking about here?"

"Well, there are many variable to consider, and then there the bees that need counting, and, well, there's a lot of kinks that need to be worked out, so it could take anywhere between, and this is just a rough estimate mind you, between, well, three to eight…" He mumbled the final words.

Ridcully rose up and towered over the young wizard. He couldn't stand this kind of delaying. "Three to eight what? Speak up man! Minutes?! Hours?! Days?!"

"Um, no, three to eight months." Stibbons admitted with an apologetic shrug.

"What! That's preposterous! What have you lot been doing to it?!"

This time it was Stibbons who rounded with some anger on his boss. Though it didn't last long, indeed it was gone before he opened his mouth to reply, and instead his ton was exasperated. "It wasn't anything we did Archchancellor. Hex has just been overworked recently and we haven't been able to do proper maintenance, I think it was calculating the food bill that pushed it over the edge."

Silence reigned. A wizard's stomach was close to his heart in more way that one, and as most of the senior wizards didn't actually pay attention to how the food got there they'd never cared to pay too much attention to the financial side of it. They all assumed the Bursar would handle it, and this was a problem when the Bursar was a couple of candles short of a chandelier.

At length Ridcully spoke with a subdued tone. "Damn! The Busar still think the decimal point's a nuisance does he?"

"Well, last I checked, he thought it was the only number that exists." Answered Stibbons in a similar tone.

Ridcully shook his head sympathetically. "Poor chap. Maybe we should think about retirement for him. Get him a nice padded room somewhere, with all the dried frog pills he wants"

"I'll look into it shall I?" offered Stibbons, clipboard at the ready.

The Archchancellor was much calmer now that the question of food had passed through his mind, but for a man like Ridcully the important matters were only ever a second thought away. "No, no, I think we'll leave him where he is for now. Best know where he is at least. At any rate, we have more important things to deal with. So your thinking machine's out of order then?"

"I'm afraid so." Stibbons conceded.

Admirably Ridcully recovered from this news in moments and straightened up with a determined look. "Well, then we'll have to go to the heart of the matter. We'll call that Death chap up and ask him what the blazes is happening."

The response was exactly what you would expect from a groups largely made up of elderly wizards who were far closer to Death anyway than any of them wanted to be. They looked on their boss with a look of fear and shock and mumbled amongst themselves.

"Are-are you sure that's wise Archchancellor?" Runes asked finally, attempting to convey with those words just how bad an idea he thought it was.

"I don't see what bloody choice we have. I need to know what's happening. Vetinari's bound to demand answers and I'll be damned if I'm going to go before the Patrician empty handed. No, with Stibbons thinking machine on the frits we can't do much here, and if anyone knows what's happening then Death's the very chap."

Stibbons, recognizing the uncompromising tone of the Archchancellor interjected before the other senior wizards could start another argument. "I'll prepare the Rite of Ashkente then. Do you want the scented candles?"

Ridcully dismissed the offer with a wave. "No time for all that. Vetinari could be sending his minions here as we speak. Better get it over and done with as soon as possible. Just get me three sticks and four CC's of mouse-blood."

As the senior wizard of the UU walked off in the wake of the Archchancellor the Librarian stood alone in the quad forgotten. He shrugged and began to amble his way to the Library. There were, after all, more important things in the world that the dead rising; and the books didn't take care of themselves.

. . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A couple of days had passed since Harry's meeting with Death. He had spent that night getting drunk, which Ginny was not happy with when she arrived to find out why he hadn't turned up for their date. Needless to say she was sceptical about Harry's tale of Death paying him a visit, and left in a bit of a huff.

The next day he had woken up with a hangover and for a week he been unbearable to everyone at work. In fact he'd been such a pain that eventually Robards had forced him to clock out early and have a few days off to get his affairs in order. This of course resulted in Ron and Hermione dropping in on his later that week to check up on him. They too were sceptical about his Death story.

"Look Harry, its not that we don't trust you, you know we do, it's just that this idea is so…farfetched." Hermione said consolingly. Harry sat in his favourite arm chair with a glower on his face and a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. "And I don't think drink's helping the situation either."

"Hn" Harry answered in a grunt and turned his head.

"You know you can talk to me mate." Ron said after sharing a look with Hermione. "If you're, you know, having trouble with Ginny, you can tell me about it."

"I'm not having any problem with Ginny! Our relationship is fine!" Harry protested.

"Ok! Ok!" Ron held a hand up in almost apology. "It's just that she was in a bad mood when I saw her earlier and she was steaming mad, and Mum said she's been in a terrible mood for days. I thought something might have happened…"

Harry sighed. "I missed a date. That's all. And it was only because of this Death thing, and she didn't believe me either."

Hermione gave a small gasp of recognition. "No wonder she was in a bad mood."

Ron made a short, low whistle before putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You can't hold it against her mate."

Harry shrugged the hand off. "Of course I can't! And I don't, it's just…well, I thought she'd at least, you know, give me the benefit of the doubt. It's not as if I've missed any dates before, and it's not as if I've been lying to her or anything."

Harry looked rather despondent and, understanding that mood, his two friends stayed silent for a few moments to attempt to work out the best way to approach him. At last Hermione spoke. "Ok, so, what are you going to do about it?"

"About what? Ginny, or this Death thing?" Harry blinked and looked at his friends as if coming out of a daze.

Hermione huffed in slight annoyance "Ginny. Honestly Harry, pay attention."

Harry merely offered a small smile in apology before frowning again and offering a half-hearted shrug. "Oh, well, I'll have to talk to her soon, maybe get her something as a peace offering, then take her out on a special date to make up for missing the last one. I don't know"

"Couldn't hurt." Hermione acquiesced.

"I'm sure Mum would be happy to have her out of her hair for a while." Agreed Ron.

"And I'm sure it'd just make Ginny's day." Hermione added after a moments thought.

"You think?" Harry asked cautiously, turning his anxious gaze once more in Hermione's direction.

"Of course! She's been moping non-stop for days; honestly Harry, it'll do both of you some good just to get out for a day and sort through this thing." Hermione said

"So what do you suggest? Where should I take her?" Harry placed his drink on a table and sat forward in his chair.

"I hear there's this new restaurant opened up in London, I couldn't get Lavender to stop talking about it really, it's supposed to be really good. I can make reservations for you there if you like." Hermione offered.

"You think Ginny would like it?"

"Harry mate, she'll like anything so long as you're the one paying for it." Ron said with a laugh

"Oh? So I'm just the money now?" Harry gazed at Ron with a small smirk

Ron returned the look with one of mock surprise. "Why Harry, didn't you know? And here I thought you knew everything"

"No. That's Hermione." Came Harry's deadpan response

"Oh! Ha! Ha! Very funny!" Hermione added with a similar deadpan tone.

Ron shook his head, dismissing the last bit of the conversation and returned to the heart of the matter. "Seriously mate, Ginny will be fine with anything. She's crazy about you, everybody knows it."

"Thanks guys." Harry smiled gratefully to his friends.

Hermione rose from her seat and patted Harry's shoulder. "Go get cleaned up will you Harry? I'll see about finding the restaurant's address and sorting things out."

"Yes mum." Harry said with a roll of his eyes

"Get going already." Hermione sent him a playfully exasperated look.

Harry rose from his chair and grasped Hermione's shoulders companionably. "Thanks Hermione. You're a true friend, really, best friend I ever had."

"Hey! What about me?!" Ron objected.

Harry turned his head to one side and gazed at Ron out of the corner of his eye. "What? Is someone there?" A playful smirk crossed Harry's face and threw his arms around Hermione then gave her a peck on her cheek.

"Oi!" Ron complained. "Get you hands off my fiancé Potter!"

Harry let himself be pulled away from the embrace and laughed out loud when he caught sight of Hermione's bright red face and Ron standing somewhat protectively in front of her with a glower.

"Honestly Ron!" Hermione muttered embarrassed.

Harry started to walk out of the room, still laughing and listening with half and ear to the muttered argument behind him, well, argument-cum-sweet talking. Then he froze in his tracks.

Something was wrong. The room was fading, and then becoming brighter, clearer, and then fading again. An odd sensation was flowing up his spine, as if someone was pushing him one way then pulling him the next, as if the room was bobbing up and down.

Feeling nauseous Harry called out to his friend. "Hey, uh Guys! Something, something feels strange."

Hermione and Ron, their lover's tiff over with, turned to Harry with a concerned look "What do you mean 'strange'? Hermione asked.

Harry stuttered into an answer. "I, I don't know, it's like something's pulling me, or pushing me or something. I"

He never finished his sentence. At that moment, as far as it appeared to Ron and Hermione at any rate, Harry vanished "Harry!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

To Harry, however, it was quite a different case. Hermione, Ron, the room, his house, even the entire planet had simply faded and disappeared, as if it was wiped from existence. All around him planets, stars, comets, the vastness of space sped by in an instant while in the corner of his mind he could pick out a muttering sound, voices of men talking. Come closer, ever closer into his field of vision was a spectacle he never even thought possible.

An enormous Turtle, larger than several planets he had passed along the way, was swimming through the vastness of space. Upon its back stood four monstrous Elephants like statues, unmoving, and upon their backs lay a large disc, towards which Harry himself was descending.

Down, down, further and further onto the disc, heading toward a large city, towards a castle like building, through the roof and onto a floor covered with an octogram. He landed with bump.

"What the bloody hell!" Harry cursed as he got his bearings.

"Who the devil are you?!" A tall, sturdy looking old wizard demanded, stepping forward as his seven companions all joined him to mill around the new-comer.

Not to be intimidated, and far too annoyed by the journey to care, Harry rose himself up to his full height and sent a glare back. "That's what I want to know! Who the hell are you?! And why did you drag me here?! And how the hell did you do it anyway?!"

The old Wizard puffed himself up in a similar fashion and, with an air of someone who had been deeply insulted, replied. "I am Archchancellor Munstrum Ridcully of the Unseen University. I've no idea who you are, and I assure you that I had no intention of summoning you. I performed the Rite of Ashkente perfectly."

"The Unseen University? What's that? And what the hell's the Rite of Ash-whatever?" Harry sent a confused, annoyed look at Ridcully.

Picking his words carefully, as if he was talking to an imbecile, Ridcully spoke slowly. "The Unseen University, I will have you know, is the oldest institution dedicated to the study of magic on the Disc, and I, as its Archchancellor, am the senior most wizard in this world and I will not be spoken to in such a manner."

Harry scoffed. "Well excuse me! Were you the one who was just dragged from your home to some distant corner of space without warning? I think not!"

Ridcully threw his hands up in exasperation. "Damn it all man! You can't expect a warning in a summoning. Its not the kind of thing that leaves a forwarding address!"

"It's bloody inconvenient, that's what it is. How in Merlin's name am I supposed to get home?" Harry folded his arms over his chest and returned to glowering.

Ridcully offered a dimissive sigh. "When the Rite is cancelled you should go back to where you were. Now stop brooding and we can find out exactly what went wrong"

"I'm not brooding." Harry snapped. "So what was this Rite anyway?"

"The Rite of Ashkente is an ancient ritual designed to summon Death and bind him to the circle so he can answer the questions of the summoner." Ridcully explained

"Death?" The glower on Harry's face dissolved.

"I'm sure you know about Death. A tall chap, rather on the thin side, wears a robe and carries a scythe, rides a white horse. That Death." Ridcully said, with another dismissive gesture.

Harry sighed and grumbled. "Yeah. We've met."

"Funny thing is that this has happened before. We tried to get Death but got a young lady instead." Ridcully continued as if he hadn't been interrupted in the first place.

Harry shook his head. "So your Rite doesn't do what it's supposed to."

"Nonsense. The young lady was Death's granddaughter. She was standing in for him at the time. Your not related to Death are you?" The looks Harry received following this question were a mix of interest, mainly from Ridcully, and weariness from the rest.

Harry, rather few up with the whole situation already, denied the accusation vehemently. "No! My parents were human and so were their parents! And as far back as I can trace it we've had nothing to do with him!"

Ridcully merely accepted that statement with a tilt of his head. "So that rules that out. Then if you're not standing in for Death why the devil did the Rite of Ashkente summon you instead of him?"

This Harry had no answer for. "Well, err, I don't…" _THE DEATH OF THE DISC IS INDISPOSED_

Ridcully moved with a start and leant forward to cast a discerning gaze over the young man in front of him. "What?! Do that again!"

"Do what?" Harry asked with a blink.

"Your voice, it sounded just like Death." Ridcully answered.

"Did it? I didn't notice." Said Harry with a shrug.

Ridcully, not happy that the young man in the circle appeared to be keeping things from him, once more rose himself up until his impressive height and girth dwarfed Harry's. "Come on now! Don't play dumb. It was an obvious change."

"Maybe to you, but to me it just sounded normal!" Harry shook his head sullenly.

"Interesting. You must be something to do with Death after all. What's your connection with him?" Unconcern with Harry's latest reaction to his challenge Ridcully sent him another inquisitive look.

Harry let loose a long suffering sigh. "I've barely know your Death ok? He dropped in on me days ago. As far as I know he should have come straight back."

Ridcully gave a shot "Ah Ha!" of triumph. "So Death is missing. That's what's causing the chaos outside."

_THAT IS NOT WHAT IT APPEARS_

"You did it again!" Ridcully exclaimed and pointed a finger at Harry.

"Did what?" Harry asked again with a blink.

"You sounded like Death again. Why is that?" Ridcully demanded.

Harry sighed again "Look, it's not your Death that's the problem. It's bigger than that."

"Bigger than Death? What could be bigger than Death?" Ridcully gaze, once more, was razor sharp.

Harry shook his head and sighed in exasperation. "Ok. I'll try to explain it as best I can. Death, your Death, has a specific place where he does his job, that's the Disc, but there are thousands of worlds out there, possibly millions, and he doesn't work in those worlds, they have their own Deaths. So why, you might ask, does there exist this constant in the universe? Why does every race on every planet have its own embodiment of Death?"

"Well, I'd imagine that's because Death is a universal constant. Everyone dies after all." Answered Ridcully without hesitation

Harry nodded. "Right. Well, the Reapers are some kind of God and they exist because everyone believes in Death, and because people fear Death they give it shape, so the Reapers exist. But while people believe in Death they don't all believe in the Reapers."

"So how does that affect the Reapers?"

Harry continued with a shrug. "The Reapers don't need people to believe in them to exist; they just need people to believe in Death. After that initial belief they can sustain themselves. But the Reapers cannot simply exist without cause and so the first Reaper decided the **rules**. These set the boundaries for what a Reaper could do, these established what a Reaper was, what it is and what it will be."

"Well what's that go to do with anything?" Ridcully asked.

Harry gave Ridcully a look that conveyed the idea that he really should know the answer to that without asking. "What do you think happens when the **rules** are not enforced?"

Ridcully paused and stroked his beard, playing the thoughts out in his mind. "Is that what's happening out there? The rules of Death are being ignored? But why?"

Harry paused, uncertain as to whether he should answer, ignoring the compulsion of the spell that bound him to the disc at that moment, but eventually answering anyway. "The first Reaper, Azreal, is, at this moment, dead."

"Dead?! Absurd!" scoffed Ridcully.

Harry, once more exasperation, sent Ridcully a glare. "Well, that's the way your Death explained it to me. Azreal, Master of Death, is dead and his post is vacant."

"How the devil did that happen?!" Ridcully demanded.

Once more Harry hesitated but the compulsion of the spell got the better of him and the words tore themselves from his throat. "Your Death seemed to think it was something to do with my world. See, we've got these three items Azreal made for my world which embodied what he was and when someone claimed them they took Azreal's powers for himself. Azreal losing his power made the other Death's loose their belief in him, and he died."

"I thought you said that the Reapers don't need belief to exist." Ridcully's razor gaze again return as he stared into Harry's eyes.

Again Harry sighed and launched into n explanation. "The Reapers of individual worlds don't, and Azreal doesn't if it comes to simply clinging onto a shred of existence, but Azreal needs the Reapers to believe in him to have any power at all. As far as I understand it, Azreal was clinging on because your Death still believed in him and was searching for a way to restore the other Reapers belief."

Ridcully shook his head. "That still doesn't explain why you were summoned instead of Death."

Harry fought against the compulsion to answer as hard as he could, but even though he could put it off he couldn't outright stop the answer from coming, so after several moments silence he was forced to concede the answer. "That's because I was the guy who claimed those three items and took Azreal's power."

Ridcully rounded upon him, anger clear upon his face. "Why the hell did you do that?! What the blazes were you thinking man?!"

Harry responded with anger of his own. "Hey! Cut me some slack! I didn't know I was killing off the universal Reaper at the time! I was just trying to save my friends and my world from an evil wizard! I didn't want the power of the Reaper! And I still don't! Now I'm stuck playing substitute Death, as if I don't have other things I'd rather be doing!"

"It's still damned irresponsible of you!" Ridcully's anger was not sated by the response, if anything it was increased.

"Well excuse me! Next time, why don't you suggest a better alternative? Otherwise get off my back!" Harry, too, felt his anger and frustration growing with the old man.

When two or more wizards get together on the disc they descend into many arguments, both those that small and petty and those that are large and meaningful, and the traditional way to solve this disputes had been to fire bolts of magical energy against each other until the one or the other or even both were dead. It was a tradition the wizards of the Disc had only recently broken but it was still a truth that wizards together were combustible, and as Harry and Ridcully stood glaring at each other the magic in the air fizzed and popped and bubbled and boiled.

Eventually Ridcully huffed and turned away. "Well this is getting us no where. Mr Stibbons, you keep record of everything round here, was there anything else we had to ask him?"

Stibbons, as acutely aware of the volatile situation as the other wizards, had run for cover as soon as the argument began but now his head emerged from behind an upturned table and he spluttered into the conversation himself. "Erm, I think so Archchancellor. We need to know how to, erm, fix this…"

"Oh right" Ridcully blinked for a send of two then accepted the suggestion. He turned his gaze back to Harry. "Well?"

"Well what?" Harry asked, a glare still on his face.

Ridcully's anger rose again and his voice hardened as he asked. "How do we fix this mess?! How do we get this Azreal back to where he's supposed to be and stop all these dead people messing up the place?!"

"How would I know? I'm not omniscient." Harry replied with a dismissive shake of his head.

"Don't be daft man! The universal death is surely going to know everything and since you have his powers then by logical determination you must know everything as well." Ridcully levelled an accusatory finger in Harry's direction.

Harry stared at the Archchancellor's finger with an entirely unimpressed look. "Maybe you didn't quite get it. I'm new to the job, I don't know what powers Azreal had or which ones I have, hell, until your Death came to me I thought I was finally living a normal life. So how the hell do you expect me to know everything?!"

Ridcully once more threw his hands in the air. "Damn it all man! You're doing your utmost to be unhelpful!"

Stibbons, at this moment, plucked up his courage and dared to interject. "Um, Archchancellor, I don't think that's helping either."

Ridcully mutter a curse then sent Stibbons a greatly annoyed look "If you want to step in Mr. Stibbons then by my guest, but I doubt you'll do any better than me." With that said he took off his hat, unscrewed the end and poured himself out a drink.

"Yes Archchancellor." Stibbons said with a sigh and walked forward towards the circle. "Um, now, er, I don't actually think we asked your name…"

Harry sent a level gaze at his new opponent, who was a young beardless man wearing glassed. "It's Harry." He said at length and ignored the scoff of Ridcully, who apparently found his name unsuitable.

Stibbons too ignored his bosses rude gesture and focused on the task at hand. "Oh well, Harry, you have to understand that there will be a lot of trouble if we don't find answers. The Patrician, that's the man who runs the city, he's a very dangerous man, and not even being a wizard would keep you safe from him if he really wanted to hurt you, and then there's the Watch Commander and, trust me, he's not someone you want to get mad, and he hates magic being used in his street and he's bound to think its something we've done when he finds out, so, really, anything you know will be a great help to us and, erm, any suggestions on how to fix it will, you know, help."

"I feel for you, I really do, but I've told you all I know already. I honestly don't know anything else." Harry answered in a neutral voice.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Stibbons double-checked, then brought a clipboard up and brandished a pen.

"Yes!" Harry said, reverting to his exasperated tone.

Stibbons wrote something on his clipboard. "Sorry. It's just that, in my experience, things, magic and occult things you know, tends to manifest themselves kind of, well, subconsciously. So I was kind of hoping that it was the same for you and this…occurrence."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry but no. Can I get back to my life now?"

Stibbons looked unsure "Well, I'm not sure; I don't think we had anything else we needed to know. Archchancellor?"

Ridcully did not even turn to look at Harry or Stibbons, he waved of his hand in their direct. "Let him go back to whatever it was he was doing. He obviously knows nothing and is doing his damnedest to make things difficult."

"Hey!" Harry objected.

Stibbons interjected before the two could get going again and maybe end up blowing stuff up. "Please! Now, don't start arguing again. Thank you anyway, erm, Harry, for cooperating. I think you can leave now."

Nothing happened "…is that it?"

"Sorry?" Stibbons blinked.

Harry threw his arms out. "No elaborate way to end the ritual? No magical finale that will send me flying home?"

Stibbons could only shrug. "Er, no, sorry, whenever we've summoned Death before we just…finish our business and say goodbye, then he goes."

Harry huffed. "Well, that gives us a bit of a problem."

"What do you mean?" Stibbons gave Harry an inquisitive look.

"I assumed you'd have some kind of big finish to this that would send me back, because I have no idea how to get home myself. So what do we do now?" Harry's annoyed gaze swept the room.

"Well, I suppose, we could calculate some kind of long distance travelling spell to get you back to…wherever it is you come from, but a spell that big will take months to work out without Hex." Stibbons offered.

"Hex?" Harry asked with a tilt of his head.

Stibbons stuttered over an explanation. "Hex is a kind of, um, machine we use to study magic and so on. It can calculate spells hundreds of times faster than any one person could…except maybe the Bursar when he's actually, you know, all there."

"All there? That doesn't sound promising"

Stibbons nodded. "The Bursar is a bit, um, unbalanced really, and, err, last week he thought he was a small albino palm tree in the desert of Klatch.

Harry hung his head in despair. "Great. So my hopes of getting home rest with a machine that's no working and some guy who thinks he's a plant. Just fantastic!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At this moment the Death of the Disc was millions of miles away. He had been to hundreds of thousands of different planets, hundreds of thousands of different worlds, all with the same result. The Reapers were gone. He was the last of the Reapers.

Whatever his fellows may have thought of Azreal before, this had certainly not been the outcome they had expected when he vanished. He had warned them. Death had to have a master; Death could not rule life unchecked, without boundaries. Now without Azreal it was life that was unchecked and Death that was powerless.

Almost powerless. He still existed.

Had He not discovered the new master of Death then this would not have been the case either. By presenting himself before the new master, and acknowledging that change in power, he had restored a minor balance in reality and taken control of his existence out of the hands of the Auditors. He, alone of the Reapers, was immune to them.

But this left a serious problem. Without the Reapers there was no way to restore Azreal to his rightful place. With life running unchecked there was no way to restore belief in death and restore the Reapers.

There was but one solution.

_THE HARVEST MUST CONTINUE_

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

/\/\**End Chapter Two**/\/\

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Please review, no flames.


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